


Life is Made for Second Chances

by toomuchdiscourse (orphan_account)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 17:21:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10621575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/toomuchdiscourse
Summary: There exists a potion that allows one to remember bits and pieces of their past lives. Philip and Theo are curious, and Theo's rather good with potions.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [I_is_turtle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_is_turtle/gifts).



“Are we really doing this?” Philip was sitting close to her- almost too close. 

“We better be. This was expensive, and ridiculously hard to make,” Theo responded, giving the cauldron one more good stir. The potion within rippled but didn't splash, despite the stir being quite vigorous. It behaved like a thick, viscous liquid; though it swirled water-thin against her ladle. 

Philip pulled the tome over, taking a look at the effects guide for what had to be the dozenth time. “It's still crazy. I didn't think we'd actually get this far.” 

Theo huffed. “You doubt my abilities.”, she said, smirking so that Philip would know she wasn't serious. Philip had made it beyond clear that her ability was the last thing he doubted in this whole endeavor. That trust had been the very source of her motivation, through a whole grueling moon cycle of potion brewing. 

“So. The soul memory potion. You ready?” Philip pulled out his smart phone. “Got your predictions?” 

“My bet's on you being a cook and me being some rich society lady, and your bet's on you being the victim of a dramatic murder, and me being a professional bandit?” Theo recalled. It was mostly nonsense of course, there was no real way to predict your past life. It could be anything, from any time period.

Philip answered with a sudden laugh. “Yeah, that!” Philip tapped out some text. “Just making sure you know. I can't wait to see you be totally wrong.” 

Rolling her eyes, Theo carefully reached out for the proper sized vials. There would be enough of the potion to share with friends, or sell on the internet to recoup the ingredients cost. The soul memory potion- more commonly known as the reincarnation potion- sold well, since it was so annoying to make. Most witches couldn't at all; but Theo wasn't a potions major for nothing. 

“You ready?” Theo asked once more, holding out Philip's share. He nodded, suddenly looking several shades more serious. Another flash of doubt crossed Theo's mind. “Remember, if you feel sick at all-” 

“-then we take the antidote you made, I know!” Philip scoffed, leaning over to flick her forehead. Theo leaned back, wrinkling her nose- “We won't need it! You're a better potioneer than I am a spellcrafter. Just believe in yourself for a minute!” 

Theo couldn't help it- she felt heat rising to her cheeks. Philip's pride in his spellcrafting- his poetry, as he called it- was legendary. The professors called him a prodigy. Her heart swelled at the compliment. “Alright, fine,” she said, to clear her thoughts. Thinking about Philip would be entirely counterproductive to the potion. “Bottom's up?”

Silently, Philip held his vial out. Theo reached hers out as well, so that they clinked together. Then they both downed their potion. 

For a few seconds, nothing was different. Theo nervously paid attention to her stomach- she was feeling sick from nerves of course, but if the potion was wrong she should immediately want to vomit. 

Then, quick as a blink, she wasn't in her room anymore.

She was small, her chubby fingers too clumsy to pick up a pen. Her Dad helped her anyways, smiling gently. Her mother helped her spell letters, slowly and carefully.

She was a bit older, sobbing so hard she could barely breath. “Sometime last night, she died, she's gone.” Her Dad was sobbing too, all the while promising that they could go on together, that they could get through this. But how could they? Mom was dead!

A young boy, barely in his teens stared blankly at her from across the room. “That's Hamilton's boy, Philip. Won't your Dad be angry if you talk to him?” A flash of rare rebellion lit her up inside. She loved her Dad, but he certainly couldn't control her acquaintances.

“Hah, did you know Pa told me you weren't respectable, when I first mentioned you?” Philip's eyes were as bright as his smile, holding her hand gently on the park bench. They were far enough away from their usual haunts that hopefully no one would recognize them. “It's kind of funny usually, when he gets worked up about Mr. Burr. All 'he can't be trusted, no one knows what he's for, he's a dirty politician not worthy of the reigns of command'. But..” He trailed off, smile weakening. “I don't like it when he says those things about you. We aren't our parents, right?” 

She was in her bed, cold and alone. Thoughts of Philip consumed her- that Hamilton boy, Dad would call him. She loved him, so much it hurt. But Dad would never approve, could never approve. It was some nonsense out from the pages of Shakespeare, almost comical in how literal it all was. She didn't think it was very funny, though. 

“Dear Theodosia,” The words, elegant and so very familiar, did not belong on a letter being given to her by a clearly distraught Hamilton sibling, eyes red with spent tears. “If you are reading this, then somehow, my duel with George Eacker ended in my death. I hope it will not come to this. Father told me to throw my shot and make it clear what I am doing, and that this will put an end to the affair without anyone having to die. I have to believe him, I don't want to kill Eacker. But I don't want to die either.” She choked back a sob, but forced herself to keep reading.

“If I do die though, I need you to know that I love you, and I always have. And I'm thinking of you forever, into the next life and even beyond that.” 

They should have just gone for it. She should have just gone for it. What was the disapproval of two fathers, against a chance at love? She'd never be able to return it. Her dear Philip was dead in the ground and he loved her, and she loved him back, but it didn't even matter.

More and more memories flashed by. She grew older, her father killed Philip's father. They exchanged letters from across the ocean. She boarded a boat to meet him. Then, there was water- far too much water.

Theo gasped, choking from liquid that was filling her lungs, but wasn't. She was breathing clean, normal air. She was still cross legged, sitting in her room across from her love, Philip Hamilton- no wait, her crush, her friend Philip from the twenty first century.

Theo paused, conflicting memories swirling. Philip-not Hamilon?- was gasping too, but he didn't look like he was choking. He was cringing, trembling like something had struck him and holding a spot just above his hip. With a start, Theo remembered- the bullet entered just above his hip and lodged in his right arm.

Slowly, Philip uncurled his grip, loosening his hands until they rested at his sides. They stared at each other, and then,

“Hamilton?-”

“-Burr?”

They spoke at the same time, words jumbling together. Finally, after a moment, Philip laughed. “We knew each other in our last lives! What are the chances of that?!” 

Theo paused for a moment, considered. Then, she snorted as well. “It's only supposed to be hints and flashes too, not a whole life. But hell, that was a lot. For me, anyways.” 

“Me too,” Philip nodded. “Must be your potion skills.” 

“Doubt it,” Theo glanced at the book again. “It's not supposed to differ like that. Either it works or it doesn't. Maybe it's because we were connected in out last life, um,” She felt herself flushing again. 'Connected' was one way to put it. “Basically, it might have made some kind of anchor to bring more full memories back.” 

Philip hummed, considering. “You know, I can't believe we were both non magical.”

The words startled a sudden laugh. Out of everything, Theo hadn't thought about that. “You know, I can't believe we were both half right!” 

Philip's brows furrowed. “What do you mean?” 

“Well,” Theo swallowed another bubble of laughter. “I was a society lady, and you were murdered, very dramatically, too.” Then, feeling light, she added, “I still think your true calling is food. At least one past life, you absolutely had to be a professional chef.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Philip waved his hand, and then paused. Something thoughtful, or perhaps hesitant, took over his expression. 

“You know, the letter was right. I was thinking about you.” 

Theo froze. Despite the memories having flashed through her in what had to be mere seconds, she could recall the letter by heart. It had been one of her most carefully held possessions, after all. 

Even more strongly, Theo remembered her regrets. She hadn't truly acted on her feelings because their parents were bitter rivals- so bitter that they ended up killing each other. Then, Philip had died- far too young. They were supposed to have many more years than that.

In light of that, holding her feelings back just from fear of ruining their friendship seemed rather silly. Hesitantly, Theo reached her hand out. As if reading her mind, Philip grabbed it in turn, fingers threading easily as if they'd held hands hundreds of times before. They had, in the last life. 

Theo coughed, clearing her throat. “You know, I'm not sure if it's quite as strong as the last life yet, but I do like you quite a bit in this one.” Her heart skipped a beat, but the words were out there. They'd come much more easily than she ever would have thought.

“Same!” Philip responded quickly, hand squeezing. “I mean, for a good year now. I didn't want to say anything until I was sure you were the same.” 

Theo laughed. “I'm the exact same. But just now I thought, if that was our last life, it would be stupid not to. Like, I don't believe in fate, but..” 

“At least this time our Dad's don't hate each other?” Philip interjected. At some point, his cheeks had gone flaming red, blotting out his freckles. “Man, I can't believe I got to hear about my last Dad in history class. That's super weird!” 

“Oh my god,” Theo giggled, recalling the faint memories of high school American history class. “My last Dad is only known as the guy who shot yours.” 

Philip considered her words, and then jumped. “Shit, you're right! Oh man, I knew they hated each other, but I never thought it would go down to a duel. I died before that, so I don't remember any of it. That's kind of depressing, come to think of it.” 

Theo nodded. There really wasn't a better way to describe those past memories. “Let's make it better this time, then.” 

“Definitely.” 

The future had always been filled with hope and opportunity. Now though, it felt brighter than Theo ever could have imagined.


End file.
